


Purchasing a Wand

by dovahgriin



Series: Welcome to the Wizarding World [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, Dialogue Heavy, Drabble, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Ollivanders Wand Shop (Harry Potter), POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovahgriin/pseuds/dovahgriin
Summary: You walk in without a wand and walk out with one. It's exciting!





	Purchasing a Wand

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the same year when Albus and Scorpius are entering their first year at Hogwarts (so around 2017, if the wiki is correct).
> 
> This has been cross-posted on both tumblr ([here](https://ollivanderswandemporium.tumblr.com/post/180284249112/purchasing-a-wand)) and google blogger ([here](https://dovahgriin.blogspot.com/2018/11/purchasing-wand.html)).

Diagon Alley is everything your father had told you. Honestly, it is. But it is also… overwhelming.

There are people everywhere, and _voices_ , so many voices bouncing off of the front windows of the shops. The noise is disorientating.

You pull your hand out of your mother’s and make a break for the shop farthest from the crowd. A sign hanging above the door reads _Ollivander’s Wand Emporium._ You lean against the wall and slide down it, wrapping your arms around your knees. Footsteps follow you.

“Honey, wait! Are you alright?” Your mother kneels beside you and cups your chin in her hand. “You look awfully pale.”

“There are too many people, that’s all. The - the noise was getting to my head.” You pull away from her after a moment. “I wish Dad was here.”

Something breaks in your mother’s eyes, and she nods, a sad smile curling her lips. “Me, too. This is overwhelming, isn’t it? New country, new school…”

“Why couldn’t we have stayed in America? I liked our _old_ neighborhood.”

“Baby, your dad wanted you to go to Hogwarts like he did. It was one of the last things he asked me to make sure happened.” She sniffs, blinking back tears. You feel horribly guilty for making her cry. “So, please, do it for him, if not me. I know this isn’t what you wanted. I’m scared, too. All of this — magic? Wands? Mail delivered by _owls_? It - it’s crazy, but it’s part of who you are, part of who your dad was.”

She breathes in deeply, then smiles more brightly. “C’mon. Let’s get you a wand, huh?”

You let her pull you to your feet, and the two of you enter the shop. It smells like the polish your grandmother uses on her floors when she has them waxed. There’s a man in a three piece suit standing behind the counter. His hair is greying at the temples.

“Welcome to the wand emporium. I’m Garvan Ollivander. Are you here looking for a new wand?” He rolls his ‘r’s, and it makes you want to giggle.

“We are!” Your mother’s voice is bright, and she has a genuine smile on her face. (You can tell because it makes the laugh lines around her eyes stand out.) “It’s for my daughter.” She gives you a little nudge, and you step forward hesitantly.

Mr. Ollivander nods thoughtfully. “Very good. My family has been making wands since before Hadrian’s Wall was built. You won’t find better quality wands in all of Europe.” He turns and begins to pull various boxes down from the walls.

You hadn’t noticed it before, but there are a _lot_ of wand boxes. The shelves go up to the ceiling, or at least look like they do, because you can’t actually see the roof through the gloom that’s gathered there.

The man hands you a narrow box. “Try this one,” Mr. Ollivander says as you open it. “It’s ten-and-a-half inches, ash wood; rather stiff. The core is unicorn hair.”

You take the wand out. It feels… odd. Like it doesn’t like you. _Don’t be stupid_ , you tell yourself. _Wands aren’t sentient_.

“Give it a wave, lass.” The man mimes waving it around. Giving him a slightly disbelieving look, you half-heartedly swish the wand through the air. The lamp sitting on the counter explodes in a shower of glass. None of it hits you or your mother, though.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is quiet and you feel very small as you slide the wand back into its case.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Ollivander says absently as he waves his wand. The glass reforms itself into its original shape, and he hands you another box, this one slightly shorter than the one before. “Here. Olive wood, nine inches, with dragon heartstring; flexible.” When you hesitate, he raises an eyebrow. “Take it, lass. It won’t bite you. Other first-time students have made bigger messes than you, don’t you worry.”

You take the box. The wand’s reaction to you isn’t nearly as showy as the previous one, but it still makes the shelves rattle ominously. Your hands itch after you put it away.

_Maybe I’m not meant to have a wand _,__ you think despondently. Out loud, you say, “Why don’t they like me?”

“Och, it’s not a matter of the wand liking you — well, it is — but each wand has its own wizard. My grandda always said that the wand chooses the wizard, and he was never wrong when it came to wands. Just be patient, we’ll find the one for you.” He rummages in a lower shelf, pulling out a longer box edged in bronze-colored filigree. “This one might be a fit.”

Mr. Ollivander slides the box across the polished wood of the counter. You grab it without hesitating this time. “What’s this one, Mr. Ollivander?”

“This one? Ah, I cut and carved it myself. It’s hazel wood, with a core of Wampus hair — that’s a magical cat from America. It’s a bit long, at thirteen inches, and is very bendy.” He proudly opens the box for you.

_He’s right to be proud_ , you think. _It’s a beautiful wand._

You reach out and curl your fingers around the grip, and it feels _right_ , kind of like coming home after spending a month in the boonies at your cousin’s farm. _It feels like Dad._

“Baby? Are you - are you going to test it out?” Your mom puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” You raise the wand into the air, and it glows. Your mom claps in delight, and Mr. Ollivander smiles.

“Ooh, this is so exciting!” You don’t need to turn around to know that your mom is doing one of her dorky in-place dances. “How much do we owe you, Mr. Ollivander?”

“It’ll be six galleons, twelve sickles.”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face. You have a wand!

**Author's Note:**

> Give me prompts! I'm going to make this into a series following the Reader (you!) as an American half-blood witch attending Hogwarts. Nothing NSFW please, unless it takes place after the Reader is 18 (so, after she's been graduated from Hogwarts for a year).


End file.
